Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy Two 02] (36 page)

Lady Nancy, however, did not hesitate to express her delight.

“So romantic, my dear, and such a surprise to us all,” she said, beaming. “But
when
did you marry him? I vow I heard not one word of such an astonishing event. Very remiss of you it was not to tell us all and let us celebrate with you.”

Feeling trapped, Amalie looked around for Isabel, hoping she might intervene. But it was Sibylla who, clearly overhearing despite being some distance away, said with a chuckle, “My dear lady, you should spare the poor child’s blushes. You
must
know that she did but obey her husband.”

“Oh, to be sure,” Lady Nancy said, nodding. “Forgive me, my dear.”

Assuring her ladyship that she took no offense, Amalie drew Sibylla to the lower end of the hall on the pretext of needing her assistance to slip new covers on the cushions in the window embrasures. When they were alone there, she said, “How did you dare to say such a thing to her?”

Sibylla grinned. “You would hardly have thanked me had I explained that it was a marriage by declaration to protect you from a forced one, now would you?”

“Faith, Sibylla, you
are
a witch!”

Sibylla shook her head. “Nay, my dear, nowt o’ the sort. I just have quick ears and many friends who confide in me.”

“Friends?”

“Aye, sure, this household abounds with maidservants, outdoor gillies, stable lads, gardeners, men-at-arms, and so forth. I grew up in such a household, sithee, albeit not a royal one. But I soon learned that it behooves one to make friends with one’s people if one does not want gossip spread about. Surely, you have noted how most folks ignore their servants, treat them like fence posts or other necessities, and say whatever they like in front of them. Moreover, even when one’s people are not right there in the room, they listen.”

“They do?” Amalie could not imagine servants listening at Elishaw’s doors. Her mother would never allow it. Remembering her own behavior at Abbots’ House, she knew she was blushing and, lest Sibylla read her mind, said hastily, “I am sure my lady mother would never keep a snooping servant.”

Sibylla laughed again. “They don’t have to snoop, my dear. Nor do I. We have only to keep our ears aprick. So I heard exactly how your marriage occurred. Oh, but do not fret that I shall prattle of it to anyone else, for I won’t.”

“I would never think such a thing,” Amalie said.

“Well, I would not blame you if you did. But there is something else I learned that you should know and perhaps share with Sir Garth—mayhap with your lady mother, as well, if she can still exert influence over Simon.”

“Mercy, what did you hear?”

“That villain Fife,” Sibylla muttered, lowering her voice—although, unlike most people, without looking about to see if anyone might hear her. “Evidently, he told Simon that if that so-delightful henchman of his cannot have
you
, he is to have the lady Rosalie. I should not interfere, I warrant, but I think her too young for such a creature. Moreover, I doubt the news pleases you or will please your mother.”

“Sakes,” Amalie exclaimed, “ ’tis Simon it will displease! He would never agree to such a union. He could not! She is only in her thirteenth year.”

“Apparently, Fife declared her to be of legal age for marrying, and indeed, she is, you know. Moreover, Fife declares himself the law of Scotland. So even if she were not old enough, recall that only a few months ago, when his brother David of Strathearn died, Fife arranged for David’s little heiress to marry one of Fife’s own vassals. And she is younger than Rosalie.”

Several thoughts struck Amalie at once—so fast that she could barely take them in—but one stood above all the others.

“Faith, Sibylla, Fife means to have Elishaw!”

“To be sure, he does,” Sibylla agreed. “It is a border fortress that has stayed neutral in nearly every conflict. ’Tis only logical that Fife would want to force it to support Scotland. But he controls it now, does he not? Simon is Fife’s man.”

Amalie stared at her and felt an almost physical shift in her mind as pieces rapidly fell into place. “I . . . I must go,” she said, turning blindly away.

“Where?” Sibylla demanded.

“I must think and . . . and tidy Isabel’s bedchamber,” Amalie said. “Forgive me, and pray tell Isabel I will explain my absence later, but I must do this, Sibylla.”

Realizing how odd that must sound, and knowing that the midday meal must be nearly ready to serve, she repeated hastily, “I simply
must
think.”

Sibylla did not utter a word of protest as Amalie hurried away and up the stairs, first to Isabel’s bedchamber to be sure all was tidy there. Then, seeing that Bess had put everything to rights, she hurried to her own chamber and found it reassuringly empty.

She did not send for Bess but quickly changed to her riding dress.

Then, containing her soul in patience until she heard the bell that summoned the princess’s attendants to the great hall and sent men-at-arms and outdoor servants to the dormer dining hall, she picked up her whip and went down the front stairs slowly and warily, praying she would not meet anyone.

Slipping out through the front door, she took the outer track past the garden hedge to avoid passing before the hall windows, and went on to the stable.

Addressing the only lad she saw, she ordered him to bring out her favorite mount. When he said he would also let her two grooms know she was riding out, she did not object. They would not hinder her, and in truth, she did not want to ride all the way to Elishaw alone. Moreover, if she
did
object, she had a feeling she would discover that Garth or one of the other knights, perhaps even Sir Harald, had given strict orders that none of the ladies was to ride out alone.

Waiting for her horse, she paced impatiently and stared at the ground, letting her thoughts flow as they would. When she turned to find a shadow right in front of her, she looked up, startled, to see Sibylla with her eyebrows raised and a knowing smile on her face.

“Where are we going?” she asked mildly.

Chapter 19

A
s Sibylla raised a hand to hurry the two grooms, just then emerging from the dormer, Amalie said fiercely, “You cannot go with me!”

“Certainly, I can,” Sibylla replied. “I suppose I could keep you from going, for that matter. I need only tell Isabel what you are about. But in troth, I am curious to discover how you mean to—”

She broke off as the first groom reached them, to say with a smile, “Fetch my horse as well as the lady Amalie’s and, pray, make haste. You will both ride with us, of course.” When they had hurried off, she said, “How
do
you think you can stop the all-powerful Fife, my dear?”

“I don’t know, but I must do this,” Amalie said. “He will kill Simon.”

“How dreadful! But I thought you did not like Simon.”

“I don’t! But he is my brother, Sibylla. And Elishaw is his, not Fife’s.”

“But he is Fife’s own man,” Sibylla protested. “Why should Fife kill him?”

“I can’t explain it exactly,” Amalie admitted. “Oh, I do know you cannot possibly understand, but—”

“Faith, Amalie, who
would
understand if I do not? Have you decided how you mean to explain this start of yours to Sir Garth?”

“He will know that I—” In the face of Sibylla’s wry disbelief, she broke off with a sigh. She knew as well as Sibylla evidently did that Garth would not only
not
understand but would vehemently oppose what she was about to do. Moreover, he had warned her not to defy his wishes, and she knew from experience that even when he issued such warnings lightly, it was wiser to heed them.

“Oh, very well,” she admitted. “He will not like it, but I must go anyway. As it is, Simon is as good as alone with those two, and I don’t trust either one of them.”

The grooms came quickly with their horses, and the two women had to delay their conversation until they had all mounted and ridden out of the yard.

Amalie was silent, knowing she could not keep her stubborn, self-appointed companion from accompanying her without incurring Isabel’s censure and a likely command to stay put. She also doubted that she could persuade Isabel or anyone other than Sibylla of the still-nebulous danger she believed threatened Simon.

Signing to the two grooms to fall behind, Sibylla said, “I know of no one who trusts Fife, except perhaps your brother Simon and a few others in Fife’s retinue. But do not forget, my dear, Fife is now as powerful as he has always sought to be. One challenges him only at great risk to oneself.”

“I do know that,” Amalie said. “ ’Tis one reason I fear for Simon.”

Sibylla nodded. “I agree that they may soon find themselves at odds over young Rosalie. And mayhap our presence at Elishaw will stay Fife’s hand if he does contemplate mischief. I own, in fact, that I do not fully understand why he is making this so-called progress of his.”

“He wants to flaunt his power,” Amalie said.

“Aye, sure, but his doing so may just annoy folks,” Sibylla said. “Borderers have been loyal to the Douglases for nearly a hundred years, since they allied with the Bruces of Annandale to free Scotland from the English oppressors. Fife is unlikely to shift that loyalty to himself, nor is the Douglas likely to allow it.”

Amalie nearly said that Garth had sent for Archie, but she decided she should not discuss his business, or Archie’s, with anyone else. Sibylla knew that Garth had gone somewhere. But the likelihood was that, despite her odd powers—whatever they were—she did not know
where
he had gone, or why, unless Isabel had told her.

They discussed Fife’s ambitions and general behavior for some time instead and found themselves in cordial agreement as to his villainy.

Then Sibylla said casually, “What
will
you tell Sir Garth when he learns what you . . . what we are doing?”

Realizing only then that Garth might have unpleasant things to say to Sibylla as well as to herself, Amalie said, “I think he’ll be too angry with me to blame you.”

“You don’t seem too concerned about that,” Sibylla said with a twinkle.

A shudder rippled through Amalie. As much as she might tell herself it did not matter what Garth did or said to her, it did.

Remembering that he had once complained that family members were just ties that kept a man from enjoying his freedom, she doubted he would even understand why she cared about Simon. But she cared about her family, even those who had betrayed her or refused to listen to her.

She was her mother’s daughter, and her father’s. Her parents had both done all they could to protect their family, people, and property without regard for the needs of other Borderers. Some had called them selfish and self-serving.

If caring for one’s own folk above all others was selfish, then so be it.

To Sibylla, she said quietly, “I don’t know what Garth will say or do. He can make me feel awful just by looking at me a certain way, and he does not hesitate to say what he thinks or to act on his thoughts. But he can also make me angry.”

“Somehow I don’t imagine you throwing things at him,” Sibylla said dryly.

Despite the turn her thoughts had taken, Amalie could not help smiling. “No, I don’t throw things, but I did hit him once.”

“You didn’t!”

“I did so.”

“Dare I ask what he did?”

“You may ask,” Amalie said, gathering her dignity. “I shan’t tell you.”

Sibylla grinned. “I don’t blame you. Is he still having nightmares?”

“Mercy, I never told you he’d had
one
. And
he
certainly did not tell you.”

Sibylla’s grin faded. She said seriously, “You may not admit it, and he did not, but I could tell that one morning that he’d had one. Has he endured others?”

“Everyone has nightmares sometimes.”

Sibylla remained silent, reminding Amalie of Wat Scott by giving her the same feeling Wat did of a willingness to wait all day if necessary. Still, she would not tell her about Garth’s first nightmare, about Will’s death. With a wry smile, she said, “He dreams of webs. Last night, he saw me on a cliff and could not keep me from falling off. Doubtless he will recall
that
when he learns about our trip today.”

“Webs?”

“Aye,” Amalie said with a sigh. “Sithee, he does not like feeling bound.”

Sibylla’s eyebrows rose. “Faith, is he one who thinks marriage binds a man?”

“He did tell me once that families do bind men. But he seems content enough. Should we not ride faster?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.

“Nay, for ’tis a warm day and we’ve a good distance to travel—four or five hours at least, even if naught goes amiss.”

“How do you know? Have you ridden to Elishaw before?”

“No, I just like to collect facts. One never knows when they’ll be useful.”

“Aye, well,” Amalie said. “Simon and Fife will have taken the Kelso road, so I was going to follow them, because with such a large group, they will be remarked wherever they go.”

“An excellent plan,” Sibylla agreed. “I was concerned about how long it would take us, because the moon will doubtless hide itself again tonight. It is even now drifting to the horizon. The sky is clear, though, so if something does delay us, we should still be able to see the road by starlight.”

Amalie frowned. “We won’t, though, because for the last few miles or so we pass through Wauchope Forest. It is not as dense as Ettrick Forest is, but starlight by itself won’t serve us well there.”

“Then we must take care not to meet with any delay,” Sibylla said.

Amalie sent a prayer aloft then that they would reach Elishaw safely and that Garth would not murder them both for going there.

Garth and his men kept up a steady if not rapid pace and passed Dryburgh Abbey soon after midday. They stopped half an hour later to eat and rest their horses in shade by the frothy waters of a tumbling burn above Longnewton village.

After three more hours of riding, they reached the ancient town of Hawick on a high, narrow ridge of land in the angle formed by the confluence of the river Teviot and Slitrig Water. The sharp angle between the two and the steep banks of both being admirably suited for security and defense, the town had served for many years as a stronghold for Borderers in general and Douglases in particular.